


Methos Chronicles 23

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [23]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28012200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: Love and loss in Vienna, and he gets to play doctor again.
Series: Methos Chronicles [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350058
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Methos Chronicles 23

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Highlander. I'm just borrowing it to have some fun.

Standing at the back of the room, Methos didn’t want to be here. He really didn’t. But he had been invited and not given the chance to say no. Little old women were a threat to society as far as he was concerned.

“Here.” Marique held out a full glass of red wine. He would have preferred something stronger but wine was all they served here.

“Thanks.” Methos muttered and emptied the glass in one go.

Marique leaned against the wall next to him. “You know we could just sneak out of here. No one would notice.”

“Lausnitz would know.” He replied. “That woman always knows.”

“Then why did you agree to come here? I know how much Byron meant to you and how…unpleasant this must be. So why come?” Marique wanted to know. “And don’t tell me it’s because _Frau Elisabeth von Lausnitz_ bought some of your paintings.”

Methos smiled a little. “There goes that excuse. No, I used to work for the family in the past and I guess I just felt sentimental. And before I knew what was happening I had agreed to attend a reading of _Lord Byron’s Greatest Hits._ ”

“Hmm, but he would have loved this.” Marique mused. “He always had an ego the size of the Mediterranean Sea.”

Methos laughed quietly at that. “He had, hadn’t he? And he would have sat here and insulted and belittled everyone and everything and he would have loved all the attention. I can’t believe he got taken out by that blood depression, and MacLeod was only too happy to lend a helping hand.”

Marique squeezed his arm wordlessly. Byron had been Methos last student. His suicide by Highlander had hit Methos harder than the old Immortal was willing to admit. She herself had only met Byron once, during the seventies, they’ve had a great time, short as it had been. Byron had been too volatile for her liking.

“Tell me about the Lausnitz family.” She suggested.

Vienna, Austria, 1831 AD

Methos stood in the corner of the ballroom observing the comings and goings of the other guests. It was a splendid affair to celebrate the engagement of Lord Brügge with Lady Metternich, related to Count Metternich around a couple of corners.

The only reason Methos was here was because his new employer, the old dowager Countess Von Lausnitz, wanted to show off her new English doctor. Methos didn’t mind, it gave him the chance to get up to speed on the ins and outs of Vienna society. He hadn’t been in Austria for a few decades, at court even longer. Actually, when he came to think of it, the capital had still been in Prague when he had been attending court the last time.

“There you are, Dr. Crawly. You haven’t been hiding from me, have you?” The countess asked as she came over to him with an entourage of young women in tow.

_Oh boy,_ Methos thought. What did that old dragon have in mind now?

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lady. How may I be of service?” Methos replied with a perfect bow. He could hear some of the girls suppress giggles. Shouldn’t they behave a bit better in society?

“I was telling these young ladies about your good work and now they wish to meet you.” The countess waved a hand behind her and the girls dipped into quick courtesies. “Good doctors are so hard to come by in Vienna.”

Methos knew that to be untrue. There were many good physicians living in town, but the countess had probably turned him into a miracle healer in her stores and these young ladies were far too impressible for their own good.

“You flatter me, Countess.” Methos said. But he could already tell that he would spend the rest of the evening listening to all kinds of ailments these women might or might not have. Alas, such was the live of a doctor.

Countess Von Lausnitz’s introductions made him the most sought out physicians in all of Vienna, at least by the female half of the aristocracy. That didn’t leave him much time for himself as she had divide all of it between the countess who had a new ailment every week and a haggle of young women laying siege to his practice. Most of them were fine, they just wanted someone to pay attention to them. And maybe snag a husband while they were at it. He did fake a nice pedigree before coming here.

And then of course there was the lovely Greta Von Lausnitz, the dowager countess’ niece. The girl was seventeen and already out of marriage options due to her father not having much luck with his investments and her being the youngest of seven daughters. None of them yet married either.

The dowager countess had taken her in as her caretaker. Or charity project as Greta herself called it. She was rather cynic for someone so young. Methos liked that in a woman. He couldn’t stand those who believed that life was like it was told in those fairy-tales, with dashing princes coming to the rescue at the last moment. It was disturbing how many actually believed in that.

“Now, will she live?” Greta asked as Methos left the countess’ salon.

“Ah, the countess will survive us all, mark my words.” Methos told her. “But you should consider telling her to cut down on this terrible cigars. She refuses to listen to me.”

Greta scoffed. “Then I won’t have any more luck. She loves these things. Especially since they brought her uncle Rudolf to an early grave, or so she claims. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Methos smiled. “Of course not.”

Greta than excused herself to head to the kitchen. The countess insisted that she oversaw the preparations of every meal, the old woman loved to be paranoid. And on one could say no to her, which she loved even more.

“Please tell me she will die soon.” Her son, Count Von Lausnitz, Fritz to his friends, whispered when Methos met him on his way out of the villa the next day.

Methos gave the middle aged man a tight smile. “You know how much I hate to disappoint you, my Lord, but I’m your lady mother is very well indeed.”

Fritz Von Lausnitz made a face. “Just my luck. Now I have to go begging to her again. Is she alone?”

“Greta is with her.” Methos replied. Von Lausnitz always needed more money. He loved to gamble but he wasn’t very good at it. The only thing keeping him from becoming a beggar in the streets was his good name, and his mother, who always paid his worst depths off, after he came to her on his knees, literally. That woman had a mean streak Methos just loved.

“Ah, then the day won’t be completely wasted.” Fritz grinned and made his way up the stairs.

Methos shook his head. Poor Greta, her position didn’t allow her to tell Fritz where to stick his roaming hands, therefore she had to bear his unwanted attention and pretend nothing was happening.

Methos was tempted to do something about that. He had been on both sides of such situations many times in the past. But he didn’t know if he should get involved, it was none of his business, after all. But he liked Greta, he wanted to help her. Old fool that he was, he only realized now he was falling for her, had fallen for her.

Present Day

“Ugh, yes, I know more than enough such men.” Marique shuddered. She was glad that nowadays, in most places, she could do something about it. Usually something that involved pain and embarrassment for the guy. “What did you do about it?”

Methos smiled sadly. “I asked her to marry me.”

Vienna, Austria, 1832 AD

Methos watched the mortals dancing in the crowded, overheated ballroom. What a strange way to find a spouse, dancing all night long. What really did one learn about the other that way? The old Immortal didn’t like to dance, never had. He could, if he had to, but if he could avoid it he gladly did.

The gods had obviously been listening to his musing because Greta choose just that moment to come over to him.

“Count Von Lausnitz want to talk in private with me.” She said clearly nervous and uncomfortable. “Please, help me.”

Greta wasn’t a debutant, she never had been, she never would be, which was why Fritz thought he could do as he pleased. His mother was already deep into her cup sand didn’t notice much of anything anymore.

With a nod he held his hand out to her. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

With a relieved smile Greta curtsied to him and he led her onto the dance floor. “Thank you.”

“Ah, think nothing of it.” Methos assured her. “I do like to vex dear Fritz now and then.”

“I just wish he would leave ma lone. I feel disgusted every time he touches me.” Greta whispered and then looked shocked at having been so frank.

Methos smiled at her. “Your secret is safe with me, don’t worry.”

The rest of the evening did nothing to endear dancing to him, but he did enjoy Greta’s company and Fritz’s annoyed and angry face. And a plan formed in his mind. He didn’t want to let her go, he wanted her with him like this every day.

“I think it’s time to take the countess home.” Greta nodded towards the old woman fast asleep on one of the divans. And she wasn’t the only one. It had been quite the party.

“Yes, that would probably be for the best.” Methos agreed. “Why don’t you get her coat and I try to wake her.”

Greta smiled. “Good luck. You’ll probably have to carry her out to the carriage.”

Methos sighed. “Yes, most likely, but hopes springs eternal.”

“You have until I bring the coat.” Greta told him and left the room.

As the young woman had predicted, Methos had no luck waking the old woman up. When Greta returned they manhandled her into her coat and then Methos picked her up and carried her out to the carriage. No one batted an eye at that, it wasn’t the first time that the countess left a ball like this.

“Are you sure she’s alright?” Greta asked when he carried the old woman out of the carriage and into the palais. The right home had been a bumpy one. The streets in Vienna were not the best but not even the biggest hole in the road had managed to wake the countess up. “I thought the roads would wake up the dead.”

“Well, the dead have nothing on the Dowager Countess Von Lausnitz.” Methos shrugged. “She’s alright, but I don’t doubt that she would like to change place with them in the morning.” But I’ll leave something you can give her.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crawley, for everything you did this evening.” Greta said seriously.

Methos smiled at her. “It was my pleasure.” And it was, much to his own surprise, he had been enjoying himself, despite all the dancing.

Once they had delivered the countess to her bed, Methos prepared his hangover remedy and with a gallant kiss to Greta’s hand took his leave.

He walked home, not bothering to get a carriage. It was a beautiful night and he wanted to stretch his legs and think. His plan was taking on form and aside from a few finishing touches it was a solid one. Not that it was overly complicated, but it still needed to be thought out. He was still an old fool, but an old fool in love. And he needed to do something about that.

By midday Methos was back the palais. As expected the countess was not feeling very well. His remedy had helped some but she wanted to be cured instantaneously.

“I’m sorry, my Lady, but there is nothing I can do. Rest and drink water, lots of it.” That was all the advice he could give.

The old woman made a face. “Water, drinking water makes one sick, not better. I’ll have wine.”

Methos sighed. Old women and their bloody habits. “Wine will make you feel worse now. Drink water or tea for the rest of the day, my Lady. I will instructions with Greta.”

Von Lausnitz waved him off but didn’t protest, which meant she would be a good little girl and do as she was told. Methos packed his bag and let the bedroom. Outside he came face-to-face with Fritz.

“How is she? Is it bad?” he asked, his concern not at all convincing.

“She drank too much last night. She’ll be just fine in a day or two.” Methos told him with a pleasant smile, knowing that the mortal wanted to hear something very differently.

Fritz’ face fell. “Oh, good then. I’ll take my leave then. Unless you have seen Greta?”

“No, I haven’t.” Methos replied. She was out buying several things for the countess and that wasn’t something Fritz needed to know.

“Pity.” Fritz shrugged and quickly left.

That mortal really was starting to annoy him. If he laid his hands on Greta ever again, Methos decided, he would kill him.

“It’s very nice of you to accompany me, Dr. Crawley.” Greta said with a smile as they walked towards the hat-maker where she was to pick up a new hat for the dowager countess.

“Not at all, I’m glad you’ll have me.” Methos replied. “And please, call me Adam.”

Greta blushed. “Alright, Adam, but do tell me, what makes you want to visit a hat-maker?”

Methos shrugged. “Nothing really, well, I was rather looking forward to spending time with you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” Greta said, blushing even more. “I don’t mind.”

They picked up the new hat and then decided to take a little detour through the flower market. It was just this time of year where everything was blooming and it turned the place into an explosion of colors.

While Greta admired some roses, Methos felt the Buzz. Keeping his hand near his hidden sword, Methos carefully looked around for the other Immortal. He found him just at the edge of the market. Making sure Greta was still busy he walked over to him.

“Karl Witten.” The man introduced himself. He was tall, lanky and had been around twenty when he had died for the first time.

“Dr. Adam Crawley.” Methos told him.

“Shall we?” Witten asked reaching for his blade.

Methos gave him an incredulous look. “We’re in public, so no, we shall not.” There were constantly people passing them by.

Witten looked around annoyed, like he hadn’t noticed the mortals before. “Fine, I’ll find you later then.” He quickly left and Methos returned to Greta.

“Where have you gotten off to, Adam?” she wanted to know.

“Oh, I just helped someone find their way. Vienna can be somewhat confusing on the first visit.” Methos told her.

Greta laughed and took his offered hand. “Don’t I know it? In my first month here I constantly got lost. Did you know that there is a maze of underground tunnels all under Vienna?”

Two days later he thought the time right. They were out walking again and the sun was about to set. They would have to return soon as the countess had engagement later this evening and needed Greta’s help to get ready.

“I would like to ask you something, Greta, if you don’t mind.” Methos started.

She smiled up at him. “If it involves a ring, ask away.”

Methos chuckled. “And here I was thinking I was so subtle.”

Greta shook her head smiling. “No, not really. I can spot that ring in your pocket a mile away.”

“What a wonderful gift.” Methos said and stopped to face her, pulling out the gold band. “So, here it goes. Will you marry me?”

Greta held out her hand. “Yes, I would very much like to marry you, Adam.”

The ring fit perfectly and Greta’s grin almost split her face in half while she admired the ring on her finger. “This feels like a dream.”

“And now to the hard part.” Methos whispered. “We have to tell the dowager countess.”

The old woman actually surprised him. Methos had expected her to approve of the match, but it turned out she was honestly happy for the both of them. And she immediately took over the organization of the wedding. They hadn’t even talked about a date yet but that didn’t seem to matter anyway. She would take care of that and inform them when they had to show up in the church. Neither of them was brave enough to tell her otherwise.

The countess decided to not waste any time and set the wedding date for late summer. Methos and Greta spent the time until then by simply enjoying each other’s company. They were strolling home after an evening at the opera, taking their time before having to separate.

“The countess insists that we spent a week at her house in Florence. Greta told him. “I tried to tell her that we wanted to go to London but she wouldn’t hear of it. She says we just have to go to Italy, or at least France, nothing else is acceptable.”

Methos smiled. “Sometimes I think she forgot that it’s our wedding not hers. But if she insists we can go to Florence and later to London. The city isn’t going anywhere.”

Greta leaned her head against his shoulder. “London, Florence, I don’t really care. As long as I see wherever we go with you.”

In that moment the Buzz washed over him. With a mounting trepidation Methos looked around, trying to find the source. It had to be Witten. And he needed to get Greta to safety without her realizing that something was amiss.

“Let’s take a shortcut home, it’s getting cold.” He suggested, taking her hand and leading her towards the park.

Greta looked confused but didn’t try to stop him, though going through the park at night had its own dangers. “Is everything alright?” she asked eventually.

“Yes, of course, nothing to worry ab…” the loud report of a gun being fired cut him off and a moment later Greta fell against him. In the light form the streetlamps he saw a dark stain blossom on her dress.

“No,” he breathed and gently lowered her to the ground, her lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“Sorry about that.” Witten called from a distance. “Wasn’t aiming for her, promise.”

Methos looked up at him, murder in his eyes. “That will not safe you now.” He hissed.

Witten took a step back, realizing that he had made a huge mistake and that Adam Crawley was not as harmless or easy to kill as he had thought.

“On second thoughts, I don’t want your head all that desperately.” Witten said and ran.

Methos was tempted to give chase but that could wait, Greta was more important than that little fool. His end would come soon enough. He cradled her tighter in his arms and waited for the police to arrive.

Present Day

“But you never took his head.” It wasn’t a question. They were out in the garden taking a break from the reading. They weren’t the only ones.

Methos shook his head with a humorless smile. “No, he challenged Liam the next day and lost.”

“Ah, yes, I sometimes forget that out good priest had a life before he took the cloth, it’s been so long.” Marique sounded vaguely disgusted. She was not a big fan of religion, any religion. But then neither was Methos.

“Is that why you try to seduce him every time you see him?” Methos wanted to know.

Marique shrugged innocently. “Everyone needs a hobby. Besides, it’s testing his resolve, he should be thanking me.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “What did you do afterwards?”

Methos sighed. “Buried Greta and returned to London before moving on to a new life.”

“I’m sorry,” Marique whispered before starting to smile. “I have an idea. When this here is over, let’s go hiking.”

Methos looked at her confused. Where had that come from? “Hiking? As in walking up and down mountains and sleeping in little, cramped and smelly tents with no modern amenities?”

“Yes.” Marique confirmed seriously.

“No.” Methos stated.

“Yes, because you need to get out of here, clear your head.” Marique told him in a tone that he knew all too well. He would not get out of this even if he were to hide at the end of the world. “No better way to do that than to walk up and down the Alps and sleeping in little, cramped and smelly tents with no modern amenities?”

“I already did that with Hannibal.” Methos pointed out. ”Didn’t clear my head any. I also did it with the Roman Legion, come to think of it.”

“Well, than at least you already know the way.”

Two days later found the oldest living Immortal trudging up a hiking path in Austria. He really needed to learn to say no to Marique, consequences be damned. Though the sight of her backside in front of him, clad in tight, short pants wasn’t too bad.

Around noon they reached one of those horribly cliché-looking alp huts with a view to die for. With an exasperated huff, Methos took off his backpack and fell onto one of the sturdy benches.

Marique rolled her eyes. “You’re such a baby.”

“I’m not. I’m sweaty, thirsty and hungry.” Methos informed her as a waitress in a traditional outfit, a dirndl, came over with a couple of menus in hand. Methos liked those dresses, the blouse was low cut to allow women to present their goods. They looked best on women who had some meat on their bones, like the waitress, though maybe he could convince Marique to wear one for him. She might pull it off, despite her slim figure.

Marique just smiled at him as if she could read his mind, which he wouldn’t put past her. “Only if you wear one of those funny leather pants.” She told him.

“They’re called Lederhose, knickerpocker or Krachlederne.” Methos informed her with a perfect Tyrolean accent. “And I’m not wearing one, my legs aren’t hairy enough.”

Marique desperately tried not to laugh. “If you say so.”

They decided to stay at the hut for the night, there were rooms still open as it was so early in the season. The room was small but nice, not too cliché, just right. Not many got it right these days. They took a long shower and then sat on the terrace enjoying dinner and a gorgeous sunset.

“Thank you for dragging me up here.” Methos said quietly.

Marique smiled. “You’re welcome.”

End


End file.
